"Thou son of Calphurn, in peace go forth!
This hand shall slay them whoe'er shall slay thee!
The carles shall stand to their necks in earth
Till they die of thirst who mock or stay thee!

"But my father, Nial, who is dead long since,
Permits not me to believe thy word;
For the servants of Jesus, thy heavenly Prince,
Once dead, lie flat as in sleep, interred:
But we are as men that through dark floods wade;
We stand in our black graves undismayed;
Our faces are turned to the race abhorred,
And at each hand by us stand spear or sword,
Ready to strike at the last great day,
Ready to trample them back into clay!

"This is my realm, and men call it Eire,
Wherein I have lived and live in hate
Like Nial before me and Erc his sire,
Of the race Lagenian, ill-named the Great!"

Thus spake Laeghaire, and his host rushed on,
A river of blood as yet unshed: -
At noon they fought: and at set of sun
That king lay captive, that host lay dead!

The Lagenian loosed him, but bade him swear
He would never demand of them Tribute more:
So Laeghaire by the dread "God-Elements" swore,